


a serial killer gets it to the grim reaper

by lovemutt



Category: The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, I already know what you're thinking and it's fine. please don't bully me., If you're my friend and you see this no you DONT, M/M, Masturbation, Murder, Pain Kink, please no one fucking look at this fic, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemutt/pseuds/lovemutt
Summary: This was written to spite myself and God at midnight one night. It's every bit as bad as you think, and my first attempt at NSFW, so it is NOT very detailed and it is absolutely gross. I was mostly writing as a joke but...Neil never meant to start killing people, you know. It was an accident, just one accident, and then it was spiraling out of control and he had a secret room in his house, not to mention the missing flyers everywhere in the neighborhood... The only good thing about this was that he got to see... it? Whatever the Grim Reaper was, he got to see it and he was so, so thrilled by that. In fact, that creature could beat him to death and Neil would thank him every step of the way-- And he just might get the chance.
Relationships: Sim/Grim Reaper





	a serial killer gets it to the grim reaper

**Author's Note:**

> Neil was a joke character (haha yandere, you know how it is) that became a big part of my Sims world and lore for the characters. In particular, he ended up becoming the descendant of a demon I made in game that represents war and violence so...That helps explain his blood lust. anyway, please don't talk to me.

It all started with an accident, if you could call blatant murder an accident. In his defense, he didn’t get out of bed that morning with the intent to become a murderer, but it happened. It just… happened.

His neighbors came over to visit, something that happened oh-so-often, he was rather popular in the neighborhood. Being charismatic was always in his nature, and truly his biggest talent, which is why when there was a knock on the door and his neighbor, that he can’t even remember the name of now, was standing there. He held up a six-pack and gave a small smile.

“Hey Neil, wanna hang?”

Neil didn’t like beer that much, but he decided it was better than spending another lazy afternoon with his cat. He waved his neighbor in-- What was his name, Travis? He would just say it was Travis.

They drank, had small talk, watched TV, just general neighbor things. He wondered if Travis thought of him as a friend, because Neil certainly didn’t see him as one. He considered Travis someone to pass the time, maybe a good conversation every so often. But Neil also saw him for what he was. Neil was always so intuitive, always looking and watching, and most of all he could understand more than anyone what a person was worth.

Somehow, as nice as Travis was, he was worthless to Neil. Trust your gut, right? Neil kept an eye on Travis. Saw the way others interacted with him. He knew.

And that’s why when Travis started laughing at Neil, he wasn’t nearly as fazed. Neil had said something about his childhood, about once being a scrawny and nerdy teenager, and Travis started laughing. Made fun of him, taunted him, all completely serious. Maybe it was because he was drunk.

And the more he pushed, the more he taunted, the angrier Neil got. That’s why when Travis went to pat Neil on the back, Neil lashed out, shoved him against the counter and snatched up the kitchen knife he had set out for dinner. An accident. The blood pooled around Travis, ran through the grooves on the counter top tiles and dripped down onto the pristine black floor. His shirt, hands, face, body was spattered red, and Neil held the now bloody knife as the adrenaline wore off and the fear struck through him.

He wondered how he would hide the body, wondered how he would lie his way out of it, but he felt no guilt. In fact, he felt wonderful. And as he was staring at the body on his tile, the blood sticking to the corner of his mouth in a most delightful way, a chill swept over the room. Neil shivered uncontrollably, the room enveloped in whispers, and he whirled around to come face to, well, cloak, with the Grim Reaper itself. He stared into the blackness of his cape, shadows sneaking out from under the cloak, a great scythe clutched in a gaunt hand, grey skin tightly clinging to the bones underneath.  
And for the first time in his life, Neil could say he understood love.

Yeah, falling in love with the Grim Reaper is weird, but he couldn’t control it at all. He stared into the cloak, and Grim moved past him like he didn’t see him, pulling out a tablet and typing on it silently. Neil didn’t see what he was doing, but soon after he put it back into the blackness of his cloak, raised his great scythe, and swung towards the body. It disappeared, leaving nothing but a bloody pools.

Grim turned around, and once again Neil saw the darkness of his cloaked head, and he stared. Grim stared back, and then said in a voice that contradicted itself, both deep and shallow, both high and low, “You’re special to be granted my help.” It said, the scythe it clutched tapping the floor. “I know not what you did to earn this, but I have been told to reap what you sow. Tread wisely, and… Clean up the blood.”

And it disappeared.

God, the blood…

Neil thought that was his favorite part of it all. Maybe the only part he liked, besides the actual deed. Feeling it soak through his shirt, run through his fingers…

He was getting ahead of himself.

That’s how he met Grim, and at first he craved to see the darkness that was the Reaper again. So he killed again, Travis’s roommate, and this time the Reaper appeared and spoke to Neil right away. “So soon, mortal? Very well.”

Neil got Grim to talk more after, staying a few minutes to chat aimlessly. He was in love.

The love turned to obsession, and soon Neil converted his office space into an official kill room, tile covering the walls and floor for easier clean up. He would lure people in every few weeks, learning to space it out, pick off drifters that gave him a bad feeling, turn on the in a split second. It wasn’t until the third or fourth kill that he licked the blood from his lips, and he nearly hit the wall from how fast his knees buckled.

He had to stifle a groan when Grim appeared, staying the extra few minutes like always to chat. Neil had to force a smile, pretend the very chill that washed over him didn’t make his spine tingle in all the right ways, and talk. Grim was starting to like him, or at least Neil thought so.

Just remembering how it felt to be around Grim then made him feel dizzy.

That’s why it was so surprising a few kills later when Grim reappeared after a murder, and sighed. “I asked you to slow down, mortal.”

“I missed you.” Neil replied.

“I asked you.” Grim repeated, and stuck his hand out, grabbing Neil by the throat. He raised Neil by the throat, squeezing just a bit too tight, and the already previous feeling in his stomach grew stronger, his cock growing as Grim held him in the air. “This is an unfortunate incident, Neil Weeks, I enjoy you. But you need to be taught. I hope you understand.”

The more Grim punished him, the more bruises left on his skin, the better Neil fucking felt.

When Grim left, saying a quiet, yet ever so blank apology, Neil rolled onto his back, biting his bottom lip deeply and feeling pain joly through him from his split lip. His hand snaked down to his belt, undoing it as quickly as he could with his tingling fingers, and he freed his cock. It bounced in the air quite unceremoniously, but he didn’t care as his cold fingers slid across the head, pushing already forming precum to drip down his shaft. He gasped quietly, knees coming up and spreading his legs apart as he slid his eyes closed.

Neil ran his fingers along himself several times, trying his best to imagine Grim in anyway that did the being justice. He almost managed it, the dark cloak, the blackness of what should be his face, looming over him, gaunt hand and cold, boney fingers working their way up and down the mortal mans cock. He wished. Neil brought a still blood stained hand up, though it was more sticky than slick now, pushing his fingers into his mouth and lapping at the coppery taste. It just made him even closer to finally cumming, the taste, and once he had licked his fingers clean and whined, shoving his now slick fingers down past his cock.

He swallowed deeply, doing his best to spread his legs more, blood and spit slicked fingers pushing into his hole while his other hand worked his cock. Felt good. He needed more. The idea of Grim mimicking all his actions, the image his mind conjured, did what it could to send him over the edge as he pumped his fingers into himself, the jerking of his cock growing frantic as he got closer. It was still quite unceremonious when he came, white joining the red that covered his torso and hands.

Fuck.

He had it bad.

He had it so bad that Grim had beaten him, mercilessly, and he had fucked himself into a stupor over it.

And that was to say nothing of what he got into once he had cleaned both himself and the kill room up, shutting himself off into his room and rutting himself against everything he could until he eventually he lubed up the only sex toy he had and pumped himself up and down on it until he could barely sit up straight anymore. Then he just repositioned, face pressed into the bed sheets and ass hitting the headboard every few seconds as he managed to cum again. He knew he would be more sore than he ever had been once he stopped, and sitting would be out of the question for maybe the next few days, but the more he thought about Grim the more he couldn’t stop himself.

So he planned his next kill.


End file.
